


Lone Wolves

by Writernon



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Animal Transformation, Flirting, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mycroft's Meddling, Nonconsensual underpants removal by magic, POV John Watson, Pre-Slash, Self-Acceptance Issues, Werewolf John, Werewolves, Wizards
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-06
Updated: 2013-12-06
Packaged: 2018-01-03 15:39:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1072195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writernon/pseuds/Writernon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: </p><p>"Mycroft is a wizard. He literally charms the pants off John. <br/>Or John is a werewolf and he gets territorial over his mate. <br/>Or both, why not."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lone Wolves

**Author's Note:**

> I first posted this [here](http://sherlockbbc-fic.livejournal.com/10038.html?thread=50703158#t50703158) on the SherlockBBC_Fic Meme Jul. 2, 2011. Minor edits from first posting.

John glowered at the pair of M&S white cotton y-fronts hanging from the tip of Mycroft's wand. "Give those back."

"Why? I never understood why you would wear any more clothing than strictly necessary at the full moon. They'll only be another thing to remove before you change unless you want them torn."

Through gritted teeth, John replied. "I never invited you into my life, nor into my pants. Keep your eye and wand to your own business and out of mine. I'm hurting no one."

"You misunderstand me, doctor," Mycroft said. "I don't disapprove or harbour prejudice, it's merely genuine curiousity. I know you are no threat to anyone. At least anyone undeserving."

John's eyes slid to the side then back up. "So you kidnapping me, again... it's just because you want to know why I wear underwear on the full moon?"

"In a sense, yes."

"Fine. To remind me that I'm civilized. My biology might go out of my control once a month, but I don't."

"And now it makes sense." Mycroft held his wand out to John, pants dangling from the tip, his sly smile showing as many teeth as a wolf's might. "It must be very hard to resist, the urge to run wild, find packmates."

John made no move to snatch his pants back, and instead met Mycroft's eyes. "Not so much as you'd think. I lost my old pack when I went to Afghanistan, and getting reintegrated is more trouble than it's worth. They don't- my old pack thrives on being the wolf. They look at non-wolf people like they're... It's not a mind-set I want to be associated with anymore."

Mycroft pulled back his wand, pants and all. "Lone wolf then."

John bristled, almost literally, the moon beginning to pull at him as the sun set. "I make my own pack."

"Including my brother."

"I won't be turning him, Mycroft, if that's what this is about. I wouldn't wish this on anyone."

"I know. I find that both endearing and reassuring. He does know?"

"Of course."

"Mmm." Mycroft moved to walk in a circle around John, swinging the pants back and forth on his wand. John's back stiffened as Mycroft passed beyond his peripheral vision. The moon being so close, his sense of smell had heightened to the point he could tell precisely where Mycroft was by smell. Mycroft smelled... subtle. No scent or scented product, his clothing must have even been left hanging out to air the drycleaning from it. Mycroft smelled calm. Determined, truthful, protective, and aroused.

_Aroused?_

The hair on the back of John's neck prickled, a flush creeping up to the tips of his ears. "What exactly is your purpose in bringing me here, Mycroft?"

"Despite your association with my brother, you lead a very solitary life. I'm aware of your reputation during your military career. You had no difficulty locating willing bedmates anywhere you were stationed. Yet you've not found one here."

"I've been going out with-"

"Bedmates. Not dates. Not casual work acquaintances you have no true intention of bedding as you don't want to risk impregnation."

 _Oh._

"I did notice, John. Three continents, countless liaisons with a cosmopolitan selection of lovers of all genders and natures, and the only women you had penetrative sex with were all either barren, or werewolves like yourself but outside of heat. You are terrified that you might breed."

John was silent, staring at the distant warehouse wall, ignoring the soft shifting noises of Mycroft behind him.

"I know the effect lycanthropy has on the libido, and from reports during your enlistment, yours is exceptional. How many months has it been since you last-"

"That's none of your business," John snarled, voice drifting into a true snarl before he snapped down his self control. Only a few minutes and the moon would be over the horizon.

"Oh, I think it is. You associate far too closely with my brother for it not to be my business."

John spun to face the man standing behind him, fists clenching. "How dare you! I would never-! How dare you imply that I might lose control and force-!"

"You misunderstand. I know you well enough that you would never do such a thing, to my brother or anyone." Mycroft dipped his wand, dropping John's pants to the warehouse floor.

"Then what-"

"A lone wolf doesn't live long, John, you know this. Wolves, werewolves in particular, are very social and require a great deal of social contact to survive. By restricting yourself to my brother and solely casual social contact, you put yourself at risk of an early death. Given how attached my brother has become to you, that is unacceptable." Mycroft loosened his tie with one hand and slipped it over his head.

"So you're telling me to go find a mate?"

"No. Far too uncertain, and if you bonded with someone outside of Sherlock's sphere, someone undoubtably within the pack structure you are avoiding, you would pull away from him, possibly pull away from all static-form human society. That would not be an acceptable outcome." Mycroft's tie dropped to land on top of John's pants. 

John swallowed. The moon was rising. 

"I'm offering, not insisting. I find you attractive. Judging by the blush when I stole your pants and again when I entered your immediate olfactory range, you return the interest."

John felt his teeth urging to shift before he clamped down on his imminent change with an iron will. "That's quite presumptuous of you," he whispered.

"I don't think so." Mycroft's jacket joined the pile of clothing.

John licked his lips, his tongue threatening to elongate. "What exactly are you proposing?"

"Nothing binding. Just a companion to run with tonight, and see where things progress from there."

John snorted. "You aren't lupine. You couldn't keep up."

Mycroft smiled and held his wand up. "I do know a few tricks."

John closed his eyes, pushed away the wolf inside. "I'm happy, on my own. Sherlock's closer to me than any packmate ever was, even my own sister. I don't need- You don't need-"

But Mycroft had raised his wand. Rather than the bone-crunching shift of a true transformation, Mycroft's remaining clothes shimmered, then his entire mass cascaded down, coalescing into a broad roan-furred wolf. Mycroft's wand landed on the pile of clothing with a soft 'thoof'. 

"Well," said John.

Mycroft shook himself all over and looked up at John, a twinkle in his grey eyes as his tongue lolled out.

"Right then." John quickly removed his remaining clothing, feeling oddly freed by his involuntary lack of pants, and let his transformation take hold. Minutes later, a brindled tan wolf and a roan ran out of the warehouse and into the night together.


End file.
